


Hello

by eternityforflesh



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mild Gore, Minor Violence, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 06:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2418422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternityforflesh/pseuds/eternityforflesh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaon's most fearsome gladiator can't keep his eyes off the arena's new weapons tech and would really like to get to know the intriguing red Seeker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hello

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the lyrics and music video for Lionel Richie's song, “Hello.”  
> For your reference: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b_ILDFp5DGA
> 
> Warnings: non-explicit gladiatorial violence and mentions of mild gore. No explicit slash.

     As he stepped out of the harsh lights of the arena, medics rushed to Megatron's side, but he shoved them away with a growl and continued limping down the dim corridor to the medbay. A trail of fading pink energon was left in his wake.

     The plating of his right leg was torn in several places, and wires and circuits sparked and crackled under the stress of his continued movements. His entire frame was battered, but he was the mech walking away from the fight, not the grayed shell being carried out.

     He heard a medic purposely mutter loud enough to heard over the shouts and jeers from the crowd: “Stubborn aft.”

     The silver gladiator kept moving.

     In the medbay, he settled himself on his usual berth, and finally released his control over his damaged frame when the head medic dampened the sensors in his leg and began the repair process.

 

*****

 

     The next day, Megatron rose for sparring practice with some lingering aches, but both the medic's work and his own self-repair routines had him fully recovered and ready.

     Upon exiting his quarters under the arena, he was nearly run into by a Seeker rushing past while studying a datapad.

     “Hello!” Megatron called, as the red jet continued past, a scowl thrown over his shoulder at the silver mech. The gladiator shook his head and, swinging his weapons up to his own shoulder, made to follow the Seeker.

     When he arrived on the sparring floor, the jet was hurrying over to another fighter, pulling tools from his sub-space. Megatron sidled over to Clench, a question plain on his face.

     “New weapons tech. Academy brat.” The words were spat, but his optics were appraising. An educated mech in the arena was unheard of, and flight-frames were almost as rare in Kaon. Clench wasn't a particularly generous mech with praise or shanix, but he was savvy.

     “Gonna give him a couple weeks to see what he can do.”

     Megatron nodded, pulling his gaze from the Seeker's back, and shouted to a couple of mechs standing idle on the floor.

     The gladiator sparred for hours. He burned through his initial partners, merciless in his attacks and unrelenting in his punishment for mistakes and missteps. His energon axe and blade were adjusted to their lowest settings, merely singing and nicking plating rather than slicing straight through.

     His opponents yelps of pain were drowned out by his ferocious commands and corrections: “Step with your right!” “Keep your weapon _up_ _!_ ” “ _Attack!_ ” The silver fighter pushed his partners as hard as he pushed himself. Not only for the entertainment factor the arena provided to Kaon's rabid crowds, but because he loved the challenge of well-disciplined fighters.

     At last, he threw his weapons down, frame creaking and steaming with condensation. His shoulders felt tight and stiff so he rolled them. Megatron looked up just to catch new technician glancing down quickly to his datapad. A smile quirked his scarred silver lips.

 

*****

 

     The weapons tech definitely earned his keep over his probationary period. Megatron learned that his name was Starscream. And he was brilliant.

     The jet adjusted his weapons with tiny motions of his tools that seemed almost careless if not for the intense focus radiating from his optics. Megatron's blades swung truer, bit deeper, and honed his fighting edge that much sharper.

     The tech and the gladiator didn't talk much, but Megatron did enjoy his short conversations with Starscream. The mech wasn't merely an Academy brat; he was an accomplished scientist, but war builds and especially those trained at the War Academy weren't welcomed most places just for the sake of what they were.

     The rampant functionalism and frame-fear on Cybertron sickened Megatron. He himself had been classified by his frame-type and sent to the mines to work himself to deactivation. He'd managed to get out and now found himself, a lower class work-build, putting his strength and bulk to work deactivating mechs for pay.

     Good for him that the mines were a harsh place to earn a living, the gladiatorial arena seemed almost easy by comparison. At least he had to chance to die on his pedes with a weapon in hand, not buried under tons of rock screaming for emergency rescue teams until his tank ran dry and his spark failed.

     One day, in the jet's small lab off the armory, as Starscream was bent over a new mod to his hand – it could now transform into an energon flail – Megatron mentioned an old Vosian poet whose work he had read and liked. The Seeker perked up immediately and stopped his work, something he never did once a task was started.

     “You've read Stormcloud?”

     “I have his _Cantax_ volumes one through four.”

     “I didn't think anyone outside Vos and Iacon read his work.”

     “You're a fan?”

     “Do I have wings?” Megatron didn't attempt to disguise his actions as he ogled the jet's wings, from joints to tips. Finally, his optics swept up to Starscream's face and the red optics staring back glowed a little brighter.

     “A rhetorical question,” the gladiator smirked. The tech smiled.

 

*****

 

     They became friends after that conversation. As much as a mech who killed for a living and a mech who helped the former kill more efficiently could be friends. Megatron took to leaving the door to his quarters open while he read or watched vids of his past fights, just to catch a glimpse of the Seeker passing by. Eventually, he could discern the jet's mood by the sound and pace of his thruster-falls as he sped down the corridor.

     On a day when Starscream's steps seemed content and peaceful, Megatron called out to him as he was framed by the doorway:

     “Hello! Starscream!”

     The Seeker paused, looking up from the holographic simulation pad in his hands. A weapon of some sort outlined in fine red light was rotating slowly above the pad. Starscream snapped the simulation off and stepped into Megatron's doorway.

     “Yes?”

     The big mech shrugged. “Busy?”

     “Somewhat.” The tech gestured to the pad.

     “Then its nothing.”

     Starscream gave him a look and then resumed his walk back to his lab.

 

*****

 

     A few weeks later, after much surreptitious observing of Starscream at work, pacing the hallways, adjusting weapons on the sparring floor, Megatron found the tech seated alone at the commissary, a half-empty cube of energon forgotten beside him as he was once again focused on the weapon simulation.

     The silver gladiator moved to seat himself next to the oblivious Seeker when a group of medics rushed in talking loudly before seeing Starscream and joining him at his table. Apparently, the jet was assisting in modification procedures and specialized repairs in the medbay.

     Megatron left without a word.

 

*****

 

     The gladiator found himself pacing the hallways late one night, having woken from a dream where he'd had his arms around Starscream, and had been kissing the jet over and over, almost in a frenzy. It had shaken him, but more than that, it had left his systems running hot.

     As he passed the sparring floor, Megatron heard grunts and clunks and clangs coming from the space. Then he heard what sounded like laser fire and decided it wasn't some over-charged mechs fraternizing where they wouldn't likely be discovered.

     Megatron slipped into the room and saw Starscream surrounded by patched together dummies, some missing arms and heads, others smoldering from shots from slim cannons mounted on his arms. The big mech watched, enthralled, as the Seeker spun, a thruster flashing out and firing for a split-second, scorching the faces off two dummies.

     The jet kicked and punched and fired his cannons with a graceful, deadly accuracy. If not for his wings being a liability, Starscream might have been a formidable gladiator; he was definitely an excellent fighter. Megatron's alt-mode was a tank, and most of the other top fighters had similarly brutal alt-modes. A flier, especially a Seeker type designed for speed, would be hard pressed to win against a larger grounder.

     Still, Megatron felt his systems growing hotter watching the fierce display before him. The clever scientist and cultured mech who could converse about poetry and politics was also systematically decimating the scrap-forms he had set up.

     The gladiator wondered how often the jet performed this routine. Judging by the shape of the metal not freshly dented or blistered by cannon fire, rather often. Megatron smiled and slipped out unnoticed as Starscream continued in his practice.

 

*****

 

     Megatron sat in his quarters, slumped in his chair, an abandoned data pad held loosely in his hand. He hadn't seen Starscream at all that day. The jet hadn't been present during sparring practice, nor had he been in the medbay when the silver mech had needed a small weld to his plating. He'd even taken the risk of peeking into the armory hoping to spot the Seeker tinkering with a weapon.

     Sighing, he wondered where the tech was. The jet rarely took a personal day to run errands in Kaon or just get some time out of the arena. Starscream was quite the dedicated worker. Maybe he was seeing someone, though in all the months he'd worked for Clench, the jet had never mentioned anyone nor had anyone come to visit him.

     Checking the time, Megatron saw that he had just a few hours left before that night's bouts began. He pushed himself up from his chair and made his way to the commissary to refuel before heading up to the arena.

 

*****

 

     That night, Megatron was in the headlining fight as usual. His opponent was a large green mech who sported the odd modification of a third arm under his right. The gladiator could see the mech across the arena, short thick energon blades in all three of his hands.

     Clenching his fists around the handles of his axe and longer blade to release the tension in his arms, Megatron stepped out of the chute and into the arena. His optics narrowed to keep the lighting from temporarily blinding him.

     The roar from the crowd washed over him like a crackle of energy. He was the champion of Kaon and the favorite to win. That didn't make him cocky or brash.

     Movement in the stands to his left caught his optic and he glanced over. A mech was shoving his way to the barricade, drawing angry shouts from the spectators he jostled. Just as Megatron was pulling away to approach the combat area, Starscream emerged from the commotion, and pitched himself forward over the railing to keep his wings from being damaged.

     The jet swung his head in Megatron's direction, optics searching, lips slightly parted. He must have been venting hard from the exertion of pushing through a rowdy, sold out crowd. His sweeping gaze stopped when he spotted the silver mech and his lips pressed into a smile.

     Megatron felt his spark catch, and he shook himself. Squaring his shoulders and positioning his weapons defensively, he stepped into the combat area as his name was called over the public address.

 

*****

 

     Struggling to get up from his knees, Megatron wrenched his axe from the chest of the green mech. His other hand was badly damaged and hung loosely from his wrist joint. His slowly graying opponent was missing all of his third arm.

     The silver mech smirked as he remembered the look on the mech's face as Megatron cleaved the mod from his body early in the fight. The gray mod lay crushed and broken a few meters away. He had used it to batter the green mech until an opening presented itself and Megatron was able to make a clean, hard strike to his challenger's leg. At that point, the fight had turned into a siege with his opponent unable to do more than lunge with his short blades or risk falling.

     With a nod to the fallen mech and a brusque wave to the arena, Megatron left the arena. Once inside the chute leading to the underground area, the gladiator sagged against a wall. Energon was steadily streaming from a deep stab wound in his abdominal plating.

     For the first time in many, many months, Megatron allowed the cluster of medics to escort him to the medbay.

     There, he laid quietly on the berth as two medics rushed to patch his leaking wound and then repair his damaged hand.

     “Megatron,” one said apprehensively.

     “Tell me,” the big mech ground out.

     “The damage is too extensive.” He hesitated. “We're going to have to remove your hand to make the necessary repairs.”

     “How long will that take?”

     “A couple hours if we have what we need.”

     “Do it. I'll wait.” Megatron offlined his optics as he felt the sensory input fade from the medical block.

     He was floating amid hazy thoughts and images of Starscream when fast and familiar thruster-falls came into the medbay. He's anxious, Megatron thought to himself. Onlining his optics, he saw Starscream reenacting the scene from earlier, his upper half thrust slightly forward, eyes scanning, lips parted until he again found Megatron.

     And his smile was just as sweet.

     The jet strode to Megatron's side, a hand coming to rest lightly on Megatron's right arm which was missing it's hand.

     Starscream hissed as he took in the unfinished repair.

     “Hello, Starscream,” Megatron said, his voice rougher due to his exhaustion. "Was it me you're looking for?"

     The Seeker shivered slightly at the sound of his name in that gravelly tone. “I-I...,” he began, optics wide, vents running a little fast. “I came to see how you were.”

     “I could be better, I could be worse.”

     Starscream smiled. “Its good to see that those adjustments I made yesterday came into play.”

     The jet always knew just want to say. He knew Megatron didn't like to dwell on his injuries or repairs. Those were just part of his job, and a brutal routine, but a routine nonetheless. Talking about his victories was a routine, though it was slightly more interesting to him, but he wanted to talk about more than that with the Seeker next to him.

     Looking into the smiling face not a meter from his, Megatron wondered what it would take to win that smile to him, that frame, that brilliant mind. He didn't have a clue.

     “They did,” he answered Starscream as if he had asked a question. Then, “Would you like to go into Kaon with me tomorrow?” They both looked down where his hand should have been. “Couple of hours. It'll be fine.”

     Starscream snorted, an unseemly sound from a mech so finely formed, and his smile returned with a slightly exasperated edge.

     “Ask me again in the morning. If you're acting like this you must be fine. I've got a project to finish up.” Giving the silver arm a soft pat, the Seeker strutted from the room, his steps a little excited.

     Megatron smiled and offlined his optics while he waited.

 

*****

 

     The next day in Kaon with Starscream was everything Megatron had hoped for. The smog was thankfully sparse and the light from Cybertron's sun shone down unimpeded, making the Seeker gleam and glisten from every curve and angle.

     Time and time again, Megatron had to cut his vocalizer to keep himself from drowning the jet at his side in torrents of remembered poetry and spark-felt praise.

     They'd gone to see a mass-vid, stopped by a datapad shop, and Starscream had revealed his terrible addiction to energon sweets. The gladiator had laughed as he watched the jet stuffed boxes upon boxes of confections into his sub-space.

     Now, they were lounging in a booth at a bar, idly sipping engex, and watching mechs pass outside their window.

     Starscream's optics were sparkling with contentment and Megatron felt that his spark might expand beyond it's chamber. The jet was radiant, and the silver mech could feel himself reflecting a similar quiet joy.

     The sparkle faded when the jet looked up and saw that Megatron's face had grown still and serious. He reached a tentative hand across the table and rested it over the larger mech's newly reattached one.

     “What is it?”

     After a long pause filled with searching optics from both sides of the booth, Megatron began:

     “You're...all I ever wanted.” He faltered, glancing away and back quickly. “And I want to tell you so much....”

     His hand was squeezed encouragingly.

     All the words he had struggled against all day left him and he groaned inwardly. “So let me start by saying....”

     “Megatron, you don't have to.” The jet rose up from his seat and pressed a light kiss on Megatron's stunned face.

 

*****

 

     They hurried back through the busy streets of Kaon to the arena, hand in hand, and as they rushed down into the underground area, Starscream hissed, “My quarters,” and tugged the gladiator toward the armory.

     Strong fingers worked under the Seeker's armor as he punched the wrong door code into his keypad several times. With a barely suppressed groan, he got it right and they stumbled through the doorway, already tangled up.

     The two mechs lurched toward the berth, mouths tasting and hands groping, and when the jet tumbled backward into it, Megatron followed him down, bracing himself above the smaller mech.

     Starscream pulled him down and wrapped his arms around the silver neck, one hand caressing the back of Megatron's head before pressing it to his exposed neck cables.

     Encouraged, the gladiator mouthed the cables, drawing little gasps from the Seeker beneath him.

     Raising his head slightly to watching his own hand gently trace the edges of Starscream's wing, a pulsing red light caught his optic and the big mech paused.

     A frustrated noise was vented right in Megatron's audial and strong hands scrabbled at his shoulders, but he raised himself up further.

     The mysterious red holo-simulated pad was on the worktable at the end of Starscream's berth. And behind it was a massive black cylinder that shone impossibly cold and bright in the light of the jet's quarters.

     “Starscream. What is that?”

     “Oh, you oaf!” A hand pounded Megatron on the chest and Starscream twisted beneath him to follow his gaze.

     “Oh.” It was a little sound of surprise. “Well, get off me.” The hand shoved against silver plating and Megatron rolled himself off his jet and the berth and stood, his optics never leaving the huge black object.

     Starscream ran a hand over his face and schooled his features into a look Megatron usually noted as his 'Scientist Look.'

     “Now, Megatron – I watched your fights and I noticed you always leading with your right. It gets you into trouble and it lost you your hand for a night.” The jet smiled, and hefted the object in his arms. “With _this_ , you can it make work for you.”

     “Its a fusion cannon,” he explained further, motioning for Megatron to raise his right arm, and began attached the weapon. “I designed it just for you, and only you can wield it.”

     The cannon took just a few minutes to integrate into Megatron's systems and when it finished, the silver mech raised his arm. Immediately, a lavender light appeared within the barrel and a powerful hum began emanating from the cannon.

     Starscream rushed forward, face worried, and pushed the cannon down. “You cannot fire this in here. Only it's very lowest settings are safe for sparring or target practice.” Then, his voice dropped into a purr and he stroked the barrel. “How does it feel?”

     “Sensitive.” Megatron's voice rumbled low, his optics unfocused. They focused again on Starscream and his hand still sliding over the cannon. “Hmm. Yes. There's something about this.” His smile turned dark. “Something to make sure a _fair fight_ is the _other guy's problem_.”

     Megatron swept his bulky arm behind Starscream and pulled the jet tight against his frame. He slid his cannon arm across his Seeker's back and wings and powered up the weapon.

     The hum vibrated against his most sensitive appendages and Starscream shuddered in pleasure. “Feels so good...but I want to survive tonight,” he whispered.

     Laughing before he caught his jet's lips in a kiss, Megatron powered the cannon down and initiated the disarming sequence. He pushed his Seeker down onto the berth and with a few clicks, pulled the fusion cannon off his arm and placed it gently back on the worktable.

     He lowered himself onto the Seeker and dipped down for another kiss before shifting to hold his face just a vent from Starscream's, optics locked on his. 

     “Where was I before you interrupted me?”

 

     Before Starscream could spark his vocalizer in his defense, Megatron finished:

 

     “I'll start by saying I love you.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Another music-inspired MegaScream! Let me know if you liked it.
> 
> "Let me hear your guns!" - Nathan Explosion :D


End file.
